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the only one who can

Saturday, January 19, 2013

I’ve never
shared this story in written form and only shared it verbally a handful of
times.It’s almost an unbelievable
story, but that’s just God.An
incredible God doing unbelievable things.Speaking to us through our circumstances that He indeed is there.Holding our hands, cradling us, carrying us
through the dark moments in life.Know
this, God is glorified in our brokenness.

“Jesus,
Jesus, Jesus,” I repeated over and over as the sonographer walked out and we
waited for the high risk OB to make his way into the room.I fought back tears like never before.I was stronger than this.God was stronger than this.We had to
be dreaming.There couldn’t possibly be something wrong with our baby.As three white coats briskly entered the
room, I quickly realized that this indeed was real.It’s hard to imagine how they must have felt,
how they feel, having to look into the eyes of a tearful mama and a fear
stricken daddy and tell them that their baby will die.I mean I have to
say, that can’t be a good day or an easy job for anyone.

The days and
weeks after our terminal pregnancy diagnosis were unimaginable.As much as we could make life normal, it was
almost impossible.We went through
Christmas, we were around all of our families, we tried to give our big girls
an amazing Holiday, but inside.Inside
was nothing but pain.I was carrying a
baby who was dying in my womb.Who would
never take a breath.Who would never be
ours here on earth.

While researching
treatment options for our diagnosis, I also began rereading stories of miracles
in the Bible.I would force myself to
believe that they still happened today.That
they were not just “Bible Stories.”That
they happened to ordinary people, ordinary families…that they happened to
people like us.Although Alli was deemed
incompatible with life, I was hell-bent on fixing her.I
think it’s safe to say that Google is my best friend.We go way back.But I exhausted all her efforts and all of
her advice.Google, Johns Hopkins, a
baby aspirin, oxygen therapy, Viagra, not even an amniofusion was going to
fix our daughter. Submission. I true lesson in submission was all we could do. We had to throw our hands and realize we weren't capable of fixing Alli.
We had to submit to the only person that could.

I prayed
daily, sometimes yelling, “God you can take
all of this away.You can fix both of us.Do it God.Do it. Please....please.....please.....”On many days I was met with silence.I heard nothing.I felt
nothing.This baby that was inside of
me, she was dying.So I began planning her
funeral.I had googled and found the
most gorgeous resting gown you could
imagine.After all, I couldn’t imagine
burying her in something that wasn’t absolutely fabulous.And I even had the songs picked out that I
would eventually ask two friends to sing.But just as I was about to submit my order for the resting gown, I
closed the page.Purchasing that gown
would have solidified my lack of faith in God.That I didn’t believe that He is who He says He is.That I believed miracles were just that, “Bible
Stories.”In that moment, I finally gave
all my hurt, all my fears of what was to come, all the brokenness to Him.To the one who wanted it all despite my
struggles.And the one who wanted to
show me that He is indeed who He says He is.And after that full submission, I finally started to hear Him.Hear His promises for me. His promises for our family.His promises for Alli.

God didn’t
wait long to show me His plans for Alli.His promise was revealed in what I have since deemed my “Christmas
present from God.”Through a book I
Will Carry You by Angie Smith God revealed His promise.As I devoured the book in almost a day, God
used John 11:3 to minister to my broken heart, “Lord, the one you love is sick.”As I
struggled to continue to submit to His promises and belief in what He was going
to do I was blown away by the picture of Mary and Martha, crying out to Jesus,
the only one who had the power to heal, the only one with true power over life
and death.Jesus.He raised Lazarus from the dead. Raised him
from the dead.Lazarus’ death to life
was my saving grace.So, I cried out daily,
“Jesus, the one you love is sick.”

I think it’s
safe to say, that at every appointment
John and I were so high on our belief in God and what He was going to do, that
we probably looked like deflated balloons, as we left every.single.appointment.We always went in expecting to see a miracle
before our very eyes on the screen, but with every appointment, the news grew worse.I’m certain there are some that saw our faith
delusional.

As the weeks
progressed and any prognosis kept getting worse, John and I stayed surprisingly
strong.Our hearts hurt.We were broken, but at the same time, God
gave us an extreme amount peace.At one
point, after a very rough appointment, John said, “You know this whole time I’ve
thought the miracle would be for Alli to make it to 40 weeks and we deliver a
perfectly healthy full term baby girl.But
really, who would that impress?A
handful of people?Wouldn’t the bigger
miracle come, wouldn’t God get more glory, from seeing a baby who weighed less
than a pound with virtually no chance of survival touch more lives?”

Against all
odds, we marched forward to this exact day two years ago today, at about this
very same time.My stomach turns thinking
about that final ultrasound where the game changing diagnosis came.Where John, myself, and my doctors decided
that if we were going to let Alli have a chance to breathe in this life, today
was the day.And so we waited.And while we waited we were prepped for what
would happen.What we would see.We were asked again to confirm our wishes
into how aggressive we wanted Alli treated.How long did we want them to attempt resuscitation.How extreme we were willing to go before we
would say, “enoughs enough.”Did we want
to hold her after she passed away or did we just want them to take her
away.After all the questions, the
confirmations, the reality set in.And
this girl crumbled.There were so many sweet friends and family
members around me, but all I was doing on the inside was dying.The room was full of nervous chatter and
conversations about anything but the
reality of the situation.I watched as
the clocked ticked away.I begged God
over and over, “Give me something. Give me something.Give me that same peace I’ve had.Where are you??I can’t feel you.Where are YOU?I can’t hear you.Give me something.Give me something.”The clocked continued to tick away and it was
almost go time.And while every inch of
body ached to keep Alli in longer, I knew that this was time.I knew God was going to show up and continue
to walk this road with us.Even though I
couldn’t feel or hear him.Even though
for a brief second, my faith dwindled and I feared He had left our side.

But He was
there.He never for a second abandoned
us.And even though I didn’t deserve a
confirmation, He opened His mouth and spoke vowing to walk along side of our
family as this journey began.Promising
a miracle and confirming with His word, John 11:3, “Lord, the one you love is sick.”

“Dr.
Lazarus,” I heard John say, “That’s an interesting last name.The only Lazarus I’ve ever heard is in the
Bible.”I almost fell out of the
bed.My eyes literally became so blurry
in that moment; I couldn’t see this doctor’s nametag to confirm what I really
just heard.As I struggled to focus, I double checked, “What
did you say your name was again?”The
20-something anesthesiologist resident cleared his throat and repeated, “Dr. Lazarus.”Again, I almost fell out of the bed.As I burst into tears John attempted to
comfort me.Not yet realizing what this
meant, he sweetly whispered, “It’s ok,
Mama.”But besides crying with
fearful joy, I was attempting to get words out.Words that seemed so totally unreal, unbelievable, and unimaginable.Words that could only be confirmation, a
promise from my God.Speaking to me through our circumstances.Proving He was there and that He hadn’t abandoned
us.“Lord,
the one you love is sick.”He heard
my outward and inward cries.And He gave
me something.

You see, that
whole time, when we were minutes away from the death of our daughter, while my
faith was crashing around me.God showed
up.I thought it odd that my cute little
blonde nurse’s name was Martha.That’s
just not a common name these days, most especially for her age group.And
now Lazarus was my anesthesiologist?As
I fought back the tears thanking God for His confirmation, for His faithfulness,
I also fought to speak the words, “If you’re Lazarus, and you’re Martha, where
is Mary??”The quiet voice of one of the
other nurses in the room spoke up and said, “Um, Jackie, she wheeled you in
here from Antepartum.”

Boom.

The only one who can.

The giver of
life.The comforter.The healer.

I say all
this because God has worked everything out in my life, my family’s life, in my
daughter’s life….even in your life, for good.For His glory.Even when it doesn’t
seem like it at the time.Even when I
have bouts with doubt.Even when I wish
my daughter never had to suffer.Because
she did.And even when I wish that
things would come easier for her.Because
they don’t.My heaven’s sakes alive I
wish things were easier for her. But He’s working everything out.I believe, I wholly believe, that everything
that has happened these last two years, is just an opportunity to bring glory
to God.Alli was born for His
Glory.Not mine.Not John’s.His glory.If we look for
it.If we wait and listen.It is there.Today, I can choose to hold Alli’s disabilities against Him.I can choose to hold all the uncertainty
about her future against Him.Or I can
choose to continue to keep the miracle of Alli alive.Known.Heard.Keep the story of His continued
protection, mercy, grace, and healing alive.
For His glory.

About Me

Hey y'all! I’m Jackie. John's wife, Anna Claire, Ava, and Alli's mama, and a million other things to other people I love. Incurably southern. Arkansas Razorback. Coffee lover. Red wine drinker. Beachcomber. I’ve seen every.single Law & Order episode and I secretly long to be an FBI agent (think Blacklist). I’m a girl mom, dance mom, volleyball mom and a super passionate supporter of micropreemie families and families of children with special needs. These are my ramblings, recipes, and everything in-between. I'm glad you're here! ♥

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Anna Claire, age 10

Ava Liz, age 7

Alli Grace, age 5

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